


Addiction

by richhousewife



Series: Addict [1]
Category: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, And Neither Do I, Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Inuyasha doesn't know what he's doing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-10-24 09:08:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17701469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/richhousewife/pseuds/richhousewife
Summary: Inuyasha is a sex addict. Sesshomaru doesn't help.“Beg.”I laughed despite myself, “You gotta be fucking kidding.”Sesshomaru said nothing, watching me with eyes bright, expression unchanging.“You know I ain’t doing that.”He took a moment then, gaze following the stiffness in my limbs, my body tense enough to stop a train.“Hn,” he started, “I believe you will.”





	Addiction

**Author's Note:**

> Short chapters for a ten part installment. Hope you all enjoy :)
> 
> Trigger warnings:
> 
> +explicit sexual content +referenced child abuse

The way I see it, I got two areas of my brain. There’s the green parts—that being go, safe, talk—obvious shit. Then there was the red, that being _stop right fucking now_ or I can’t be held accountable for the possibly _violent_ outbreak that may supersede.

Typically, it goes like this: my spine crumblingly embarrassing fear of cats—red. My damn near obsessive porn addiction—red. My adoption—red. My mother—red. Everything else was a go, pretty much. I’m a simple guy.

Or… I was. Life just got unbearably more complicated.

Let me back it up for you real quick. So, it’s like this: I got married. The shock of the century. Then divorced. No surprise there. Here I was, twenty-five years old with a master’s degree in computer science and damn near all the money left in the world passed down to me from the blessed death of my adoptive father—red brain area—and I throw it all to shit by getting _married_. So why in the seven fucking hells would I make such a painfully imbecilic decision—the question on everyone’s, and I do mean _everyone’s_ , fucking mind.

That including the court appointed psychiatrist I was currently sitting across from right now.

“What do you mean?”

I knew what she meant. It’s just sometimes, I need more time to lie. There was a brief silence and I remained, eyeing a glass bowl of jelly beans as they sat, teasing me atop the small coffee table between us.

“I mean,” she began again, clamping slender fingers together atop crossed legs, “Ideally, people marry for love, right? Was that what drew you to making this commitment?”

Her name was Kagome, this psychiatrist. Dr. Higarashi. I had taken hella mental notes on her upon our first meeting. Number one, she was pretty, with eyes the same grey as the sky on a cold day. I almost wished I could acquire the taste for female company looking at her. Almost. Number two, her nails were always neat and colored a different pastel each meeting they’d had thus far. Today it was a pale yellow. And that’s pretty much what I got so far.

Anyway, the answer to her question was simple. No one had ever wanted me. And I don’t mean that adrenaline kind of want, the kind of want that burns in your stomach when making eye contact with a stranger—that was temporary shit and I’d had plenty of those. I meant the kind of want that made promises, the kind of want that stayed. Nobody had ever… well it doesn’t matter. This was red area shit and the way that red area shit works is that I physically cannot speak it. The words stay trapped in my throat, threatening to choke me before I can get it passed my teeth.

So instead I say:

“Whatever it fucking was, it was a mistake.”

Therapy wasn’t much like how it’s seen in movies. Kagome didn’t scribble ominous notes into a yellow legal pad every time I spoke. She mostly just paused, watching me, mulling my responses in her brain before starting again.

“Why do you feel it was a mistake?”

I barked out a laugh, “He’s coming for my money, ain’t he?”

“You don’t feel he is owed some level of compensation, due to your infidelity?”

I grabbed a hand full of jelly beans at last, stuffing the chewy bastards in my mouth at once before responding between bites.

“I think you mean alleged infidelity,” I corrected, swallowing what was left and bringing a clawed finger upwards to pick through what remained in my teeth, “Don’t ya’, doc?”

There was a ghost of a smile before she responded, “My apologies, Onigumo-san.”

I shuddered at the sound of my maiden name. Can you believe that shit? The rotten bastard had been dead and gone coming up on five years and I still can’t hear that name without cringing.

“Please,” I started, “It’s Inuyasha.”

She remained silent, watching, analyzing my reaction. It was only when her eyes flickered to my hands did I even realize they were clenched in fists atop the armrest. My fingers itched for a cigarette.

That’s always how it started.

“We done here?” I asked, my knee beginning to bounce, the tension in my body building, heating in my stomach.

She took a moment. Then there was a smile, polite and professional.

“See you next week, Inuyasha.”

* * *

I had the cigarette between my fingers before the heavy glass doors even slid open to allow my retreat. The flicker of the lighter was a comforting sound, almost as comforting as the accompanying inhale, my nerves loosening just off of that one gesture.

It wasn’t enough. My skin was still crawling with it, with those four syllables, memories threatening to creep back to the forefront— _red_ , **_red_** , **_RED_**.

The cigarette was crushed into crumbs between my closed fists and before I knew it, I was crouching— _crouching_ —right there in the goddamn middle of the bustling city sidewalk. I tried to breathe, slow and steady. The first thing I felt was the cold, the wind almost biting, whipping my hair from my face, convincing my eyes to flutter open, my fists following suite. Cars were zooming passed me, I could hear it, could hear the screeching sound of tire against asphalt just a few feet away from my ears and I concentrated on that, concentrated on _now_.

Then there was nothing. There was just me, alone, crouching—losing my damn _mind_ while the entirety of the world walked around me without so much of a glance.

I took out my phone with shaking hands, typing that familiar name into my message box.

_Wya?_

There was a moment of nothing, then the ‘…’ that signified typing on the other side.

Sesshomaru: _?_

I rolled my eyes at his response.

_Where you at, dipshit._

Sesshomaru: _My home._

Sesshomaru: _Use correct vernacular._

My nerves were jumping as I boarded the train, my pulse beating under my skin, though my fingertips, in the thick of my cock. I wanted to feel skin, ached for the rawness of it—teeth nicking my neck, the full sensation of someone else filling the empty parts of me, a fucking _orgasm_ to release everything pent up inside of me. I ached for it.

I needed it. More than I was willing to admit.

I’m fucked up. I know that. Something in my head just ain’t right, a screw loose, a light out, elevator don’t go all the way to the top—whatever you want to call it, I fucking know, okay? I’m fucked up.

* * *

Sesshomaru’s apartment was almost always quiet, with the natural lighting of the day spilling in through the magnitude of window space paneling across the far wall. There was a scent of leather from the upholstery, faint but noticeable. Somedays the scent of peppermint muddied the air from a discarded teabag left drying in a mug in the sink.

I ain’t never much had a home before. My spot was huge, with nothing to take up the space but a mattress and a six pack of beer. Don’t remember anything about my parents place before they gave me up. And once I was adopted… I tried to be everywhere else. Now, I ain’t saying Sesshomaru’s place was ‘home’. I’m just saying, sometimes, when my head gets fucked up like it does, I think of his stupid bellowing windows and his smelly leather and it helps.

My jacket was off as soon as I walked through the door, slipping from my wrists and unto the shining wood of the flooring. Shoes were next, kicked off and discarded wherever—Hell, I was damn near to my boxers before I noticed my counterpart totally _not_ moving from his perch by the front door and—what’s worse—still _fully_ dressed and watching me like a disapproving father watched his son undressing at the dinner table.

“What’s up, you shy now?” I asked, grinning, stepping out of ripped black denim jeans one foot at a time.

“I believe, per our last conversation, you’d decided the sexual nature of this relationship was finished.”

I evened my eyes, “You know why I had to say that, Sesshomaru.”

“I do not,” he responded, feigning innocence and beginning to walk towards the kitchen, “Do enlighten me.”

Our last conversation, Kai walking in on us together—and I do mean _together_ together. His face dropping, features sinking like a weight to the bottom of the ocean, then the anger that was a front for the obvious hurt I could see so fucking plainly in his eyes. He trusted me—Kai did. I wish I could’ve warned him. Disappointment follows me like a shadow.

“I wanted—” I said at last, lost in my thoughts, lost in the memory. I wanted to be faithful. I wanted it to last. I wanted it to be _real_ so fucking bad. Guilt was my least favorite emotion.

It was the scent of peppermint that took me out of it, my eyes flashing back to Sesshomaru’s as he lifted a spot of tea to his lips, watching me over the rim of his mug.

“What did you want, Inuyasha?”

I looked away. And, just like that, it was like my thoughts were as loud as they would have been if I had spoken them, just with that one gesture.

Sesshomaru scoffed, “You are a fool.”

“And you’re a fucking _asshole_.”

I jumped to my feet at that, yanking my jeans back up over my hips and rummaging for my shoes, my blood practically fucking boiling and it showing through jerky movements, through a mean grimace stretched across my expression. Sesshomaru remained, unbothered, watching me fumble for my discarded items while adding another sugar cube to his steaming pot.

I got halfway to the door before I stalled, losing the bravado, t-shirt only half way placed on my body, shoes stamped into without untying the laces, jeans still remaining unzipped and sagging. I cursed myself, clenching my eyes until I saw stars if only to convince my body to fucking _move_. But I couldn’t. I still needed it and it was burning my fucking blood, like every cell in my body was ripping themselves apart; starving for touch.

I whipped back round, facing him again and speaking through clenched teeth, “We doing this or fucking what?”

He set the mug down with a gentle _clink_ and before I could so much as blink, he was in front of me again, close enough for me to feel his body heat, close enough for my cock to jump at attention, close enough to remember what that body could do. I looked up to his stare, to the smug arrogance displayed though the faintest of smirks and I fucking ached, my breath hitching—waiting. We watched each other for a full moment of stillness before he spoke, breaking the spell like a bucket of ice water to the face.

“Beg.”

I laughed despite myself, “You gotta be fucking kidding.”

Sesshomaru said nothing, watching me with eyes bright, expression unchanging.

“You know I ain’t doing that.”

He took a moment then, gaze following the stiffness in my limbs, my body tense enough to stop a train.

“Hn,” he started, “I believe you will.”

I set my jaw, muscles flexing, keeping his stare with a boldness that was pure bluff.

And he knew it.

He turned away then, making his way back to his cooling pot of peppermint tea and I had to fist my fingers to stop from reaching out for him, had to swallow my tongue to stop the pubescent whine from tearing through my throat and then, before I could think about the _absolute_ _humiliation_ of it, I closed my eyes and I said it—a strangled whisper from the bottom of my throat.

“ _Please_.”

And it was that easy.

He was in front of me at once, backing me into a wall—no—a counter, and before I knew it, I was sitting on the hard marble with the full blood between my open legs as he began devouring the skin of my neck, long fingers shoving themselves under the waistband of my boxers and grasping me so hard I had to bite my tongue to keep from screaming out. Sesshomaru was deliciously rough and before I could get a full breath at once, I was grasping him, the tear of his fangs at my neck coupled with the strong sure strokes of his hand making me light headed with that electric feeling I knew to be my release coming far too soon for my liking.

I tried to speak against it, tried to tell him to stop least I be done before we had even started but all that came out was stuttered out syllables of his name. So I reached for him, a clawed hand place shakily atop the thick of his wrist that earned me a feral growl from my counterpart and the thick of those fangs buried fully into the bend of my neck right before the shoulder and I did cry out then, the sting of his teeth mixing dangerously with the sharp pull on my dick and before I could so much as make sense of it, I was cumming in a gut wrenching, muscle spasming climax that had his hands webbed with the slippery substance that was my release.

I could hardly catch my breath, my limbs seemingly boneless even as Sesshomaru lifted me to my feet and twisted me so that my back was to him, so that I was caged in between his body and the sharp stone of the countertops splitting me at the waist. I braised my hands on the cold stone in front of me as Sesshomaru freed me of my bottoms—denim pulled over my hips and then the yank of the cotton undergarment left to fall around my ankles.

There was the metallic sound of his zipper and I shut my eyes, craving it harder than before, my cock resurrected yet again, going half hard in anticipation and every muscle in my fucking body melting into him when I felt it. That initial stretch had me shuddering against him, goading him to push even harder, his hands landing alongside my own atop the shinning surface of the granite. The sound of Sesshomaru moving inside of me was positively obscene, slicked with my own semen and making my eyes roll with the sensation of being near completely satisfied.

He fucked me until I was near whimpering, overtly stimulated and wanting to pull away while somehow also wanting to stay in this exact spot until my last day.

I felt claws raking my scalp only moments before my hair was fisted into his grip, just hard enough to have my neck craned upwards, my body now flush with Sesshomaru’s—my back tight against his front and my hips bumping rhythmically against the blunt end of the countertops. His thrusts were getting harder, more erratic, and I knew from experience that he was close, knowing even before it happened.

I felt my eyes roll at the sensation of his climax, his dick pulsating with it from inside of me. Only then, was I satisfied, only then was the haze of the day dissipated, my muscles relaxing against Sesshomaru’s in absolute euphoric relief.

Like I said—I’m fucked up. But, at least I know it.


End file.
